Why Lancelot Sits Alone
by Gargoyle13
Summary: Lancelot sits alone on his side of the round table. Arthur wants to remedy it...or does he?


**Disclaimer:** You know so just read on.

**Further disclaimer:** Vapid silliness. It's a long, boring train ride some days.

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"I am not sitting by him!" The declaration was loud and brooked no room for argument, as Tristran's outbursts rarely did. The fact that he rarely raised his voice, coupled with the sudden emotion, made everyone, including Arthur take note.

Arthur ran a hand through his eternally messy locks and sighed. He was really becoming exasperated with the Knights.

"Look," he began, 'it's really simple. The table isn't balanced. All of you have crowded to one side of the table, leaving only Lancelot on this side."

Murmurs of "so" and "like that's a big surprise" caused Arthur to stop talking again. He was beginning to wonder if banging his head against the fabled round table would give him any more of a headache than he already had. Running his hand across its surface, he contemplated that it might actually, in fact, cure his headache.

"You can't have a round table if everyone sits on one side. You can't. It doesn't work." Arthur tried a different approach, hoping to make an inroad.

Bors shrugged and looked around. "Not like it's a boat an' gonna capsize or somethin'."

"No…no, you are correct, Bors. It is not a boat. It isn't going to capsize." Arthur ran his hand through his curls again, plucking at them in his agitated state. "But it's a round table…it's meant to equalize everyone at it. To get us all thinking like a team, acting like a team…"

"And there's no 'I' in team," came a mumbled interjection.

Arthur's eyes flamed as he tried to track down the source of the statement. Gazing over the assembly, he finally guessed it came from Gawain, a known source of sarcastic mumblings.

"You are correct, Gawain," and knew he was right when Gawain flinched and coloured slightly pink, "there is no 'I' in team."

"But there is a 'me'…wonder why that is…"

Everyone turned to look at Galahad, who innocently looked up. "What? It's true, isn't it? If you rearrange the letters in 'team', you get 'me'."

The snickers were soft as everyone again turned to look at Arthur. Glaring at Gawain, whose interruption had started this new debate and who had the good grace to look chastised (though Arthur knew it was only for his benefit), he turned to Galahad. "Because that is how you spell team, Galahad. T-E-A-M. Notice that the 'm' and 'e' are nowhere near each other; therefore, they do not spell 'me'. They only spell team, which is what we are and we need to start acting like one. Someone needs to move their seat over to this side of the table. Now."

With one hand pointing to the empty seats and the other raised so as to squelch the new rumblings, Arthur put on his best stern/get moving face. He was surprised when no one moved, not even flinched. Dagonet kept his stony silence staring at the table; Bors leaned back and pretended to count something on the ceiling; Galahad was still trying to figure out why the 'me' in team did not count; Gawain sat back, arms crossed, peering defiantly through filthy locks; and Tristran simply met Arthur's gaze with icy silence.

"Come on. Don't make me assign seats again." Arthur shuddered inwardly as he remembered the chaos when he'd first introduced the round table and given the Knights seats. He'd tried to mix the younger and older Knights, hoping that some of the wisdom and maturity of the elders would rub off onto the youth. He stopped himself from snorting at how ridiculous he'd been. Wisdom and maturity. What had he been thinking? It had deteriorated quickly into chaos – the older Knights had been even whinier and poutier than the youths he had hoped the mix would benefit. As the whining, arguing and shouting came ringing back to his ears, he reflexively began rubbing his temples.

"Why don't we just make Galahad go sit there?" Dagonet, the voice of reason that Arthur could always count on.

"Why me?" Galahad rose from his chair.

"Yes, why Galahad? Why not you, Dag? Or Bors?" Gawain rose as well.

"Hey now – don't go gettin' me involved. I'm sittin' here mindin' my own business. I'm not movin' an' you're certainly not movin' me, so just back off, Gawain." Bors had begun to stand, only to be pushed back into his chair by Dagonet.

"Yes, but why should I have to move?" Galahad was whining now, which meant that Gawain would get even more defensive.

Suddenly, Arthur had an idea. He looked down at the table. "Well, Gawain, if you are so against Galahad moving, you could always move and take Galahad with you…" He raised an eyebrow, he was hoping innocently. "I mean, if you are so concerned with his well-being and defending him from, well, everything…"

Murmurs of approval came from the other three Knights.

Everyone was taken aback as Tristran rose from his seat, grabbed Gawain's chair and heaved it across the room. Dusting his hands, he gave one of his unique non-smiles. "All moved."

Gawain stood and stared at the scout, then at where his chair had landed across the room.

"Tristran, how do you do that? And why do you do that?" Gawain sputtered at the scout, who just shrugged.

Bors decided that Tristran's course of action was admirable and proceeded to grab Galahad's chair, flinging it across the room as well. "There ya' go…the two of ya' can keep each other – and Lancelot – company. Enjoy. Have fun. Put on yer happy face, Galahad." He reached out and lightly smacked the cheek of the younger, laughing.

Barely concealed, choking laughter emanated from behind him as Dagonet struggled to keep a straight face. Even Arthur fought to keep a straight face at the slack faces of Gawain and Galahad.

Suddenly Gawain turned to Arthur and smiled. "Alright. I'll sit by Lancelot. I'll even take Galahad with." He put his hand on Galahad's shoulder as the youth began to protest being dragged along quite literally, yet again. He proceeded to walk over, collect his chair and pull it up to the table, knocking the extras out of the way, right next to Lancelot's seat. Galahad, looking alternately angry and confused, followed, pulling his chair up next to Gawain.

Lancelot entered the room, whistling some melody, not even noticing that the meeting had begun without him. As Arthur watched, Gawain smiled a sickly sweet smile at the three across from him.

"What are the two of you doing on my side of the table?" Lancelot did not bother to hide his indignation at the invasion.

"Sitting in our new places. It's been deemed that you need company and so…here we are." Gawain continued to smile as Arthur grew more suspicious.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He looked to Arthur for confirmation and received a smile and nod. "No, really…you're here to keep me company? Why on earth would you think I need or want company?"

Gawain shrugged and kicked Galahad under the table as the latter began explaining how there is no 'I' in team and the 'me' doesn't count.

Looking around, including under the chairs, Lancelot pursued the topic. "So…Gawain…did you at least bring this beautiful Sarmatian wife of yours along?" Gawain grunted. "I mean, if I am forced to sit near you, it would be the least you could do." Lancelot smirked. He hadn't thrown much bait and did not expect Gawain to do anything more than smirk.

Instead, to his surprise, Gawain took the bait.

"Lancelot, why ever do you think that a beautiful Sarmatian woman would sleep with you when she can have me? Especially my wife… I ought to…where is my axe?" Gawain stood and puffed out his chest.

Arthur looked at the other Knights as realization dawned on them what they had done. There was a collective groan and one laugh, as the ingenuity of Gawain's plan dawned.

"Gawain…Gawain." Lancelot shook his dark curls, "When will you ever learn that the women prefer me. Always have and always will. It's why so many have the fortune of such handsome children. Why you will wonder at your fortune of being blessed with such handsome children one day."

Before Gawain could reply, Dagonet's voice cut through the room. "Stop! Enough!" Dagonet looked at Arthur. "I do not know about you or you or you," he pointed to Arthur, Bors and Tristran, "but I will not listen to this every single day for the next however many years." He stomped over and tossed Gawain and Galahad's chairs back across the room.

Gawain tried to look innocent as he walked to retrieve his chair, Galahad in tow, but could not resist leaning into Arthur as he passed, whispering, "Tried to tell you it wasn't a good idea but you know better…" He flashed a devilish grin and kept walking. Smacking Bors in the back of the head as he passed, he retrieved his chair and situated it in its usual spot. Glancing at Tristran, he stuck his tongue out at the scout but replaced it when Tristran's hand flicked to the knife in his sleeve.

Arthur put his head in his hands. The group watched quietly as they heard small, high-pitched noises coming from the mound that was Arthur's head and shoulders.

"Why do you have to do this to me?" Arthur was wailing now, taking all the Knights aback. "All I want is a balanced round table where there is no 'I' and no 'me'," he glanced sharply at Galahad, "and you have to ruin, ruin, ruin it!" He was beating his palms on the table top furiously. "Is it too much to ask for? Do I really ask for too much?"

He stopped wailing and sat, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. He waited a few moments and cracked the lids open just a bit, gauging the reaction of the Knights. They were looking at each other, concern written on their faces. Even Tristran was looking rather uncomfortable at this display of emotion from their commander. Arthur had to resist the urge to smirk. The only one unaffected was Lancelot; he was busy examining his reflection in the deep polish of the table top, making some sort of weird faces at himself. Egads, was he practicing his pucker? Arthur quickly averted his eyes before he felt the need to tell Lancelot to quit preening. Though it was better than the time he had caught Lancelot scratching his crotch and smelling his fingers. Which was still better than the time he'd glanced over and caught his first-in-command picking his nose, alternately wiping the contents on the chairs around him and… Feeling queasy, Arthur returned his focus to the present and noticed the other Knights had risen from their seats, conducting an impromptu (and highly animated) meeting of their own. They seemed to come to an agreement and returned to their seats.

Bors remained standing, obviously uncomfortable in his role as spokesman for the group. "Ummm…Arthur…you've got us all a bit concerned. I've not heard cryin' like that since, well, my youngest girls got into it." It was Dagonet's turn to smack him in the back of the head. "What're you smackin' me for? 'Tis the truth an' we all know it. He was carryin' on like a little girl." Tristran cleared his throat and began tapping the point of his knife on the table. Bors sighed. "Anyway. We all just decided that, nope, ain't none o' us movin' to that side no matter what sort of bellyachin' and carryin' on happens. Furthermore, if you try an' assign seats, well…you can count an' there's more o' us than there is o' you." Finished, Bors looked around at his comrades, who nodded their approval, and sat.

Arthur stared at the six men resolutely staring back. He knew he'd never win a staring contest with most of them. He could stare down Galahad. Gawain would be a bit harder. Possibly Bors, if he concentrated long enough. But staring down Dagonet and Tristran? He shook his head and let his chin drop to his chest. He had been defeated. Or had he? Lifting his head, his eyes twinkled. He turned to his first-in-command.

"Lancelot." Being addressed snapped Lancelot out of the study of his features and he focused on Arthur. "Would you please take your chair and go sit, oh, well, anywhere on this side of the table?" He gestured to the offending side grandly.

Lancelot looked confused, but shrugged, got up, grabbed his chair and moved, choosing a seat between Bors and Tristran.

"This is lunacy, Arthur," Dagonet hissed under his breath to their esteemed commander, who simply turned and smiled.

Rapping his knuckles on the table, Arthur called the meeting to order before anyone had a chance to react to his latest tactic. As he began addressing the group, he noticed that no one seemed to be paying attention to his words. They were instead, well, focused on other things.

"Galahad." Arthur's bark made Galahad look up from whatever pattern he was tracing on the table. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

Turning bright red, Galahad looked to Gawain for help and found none. The bigger Knight simply shrugged and shook his head.

"Ummmm…er…was it something about Woad movements near the Wall?" Galahad feebly took a stab at a familiar topic.

"No, Galahad, it was not. Would you care to try guessing again?"

Galahad shook his head 'no' and went back to tracing patterns on the table top.

"Galahad!" Arthur's bark again shocked him out of his tracing and he looked up as everyone watched. "What are you doing?"

"Ummm…" He looked around sheepishly. Arthur crossed his arms and assumed his stern look. "I…uh…well, to be honest, I don't understand why the 'me' in 'team' doesn't count. It doesn't make sense. I mean, I know the two letters aren't anywhere near each other, but they are still there and you can rearrange them to be 'me', so they really ought to count…" His voice trailed off at the collective groan. Gawain reached over and smacked Galahad in the back of the head while Arthur again contemplated banging his against the table.

"An' while we're on that topic, what about now? What about yer table now, Arthur? It's more unbalanced than before. Now we're definitely a boat about ta' capsize…" Leave it to Bors, the observer of the obvious.

Arthur looked pleadingly at Dagonet, who chose to ignore him and continue studying his hands; then to Tristran, who simply regarded him coldly and fingered the knife he'd replaced in his sleeve.

"Me? Team? Boats that are capsizing? Big dummy and little dummy relegated to my side of the table…" Lancelot waved his arms around, pausing to dare Gawain to get up and do something about the nicknames. "Really, Arthur, what in the name of your god are they talking about?" He grabbed his chair and started for his original seating place, muttering the whole way about his crazy brothers, crazy commander and how he was the only sane being in this entire gathering.

Arthur's head hung down and he simply shrugged helplessly. He'd been beaten. He knew he'd been beaten. He could outmaneuver a hundred armed and dangerous Woads but somehow, someway five Sarmatian Knights had outmaneuvered, outsmarted and outwitted him.

Lancelot cleared his throat. "I am leaving now. If we are not going to discuss anything important, I have other…things…to do." He smirked mischievously. "You all disturb me…deeply. Farewell."

The others got up and followed the retreating figure, leaving their commander in silence. Galahad had paused briefly by Arthur's chair, wanting to say something to comfort him, but had been shoved out the doors by Gawain. Peeking from behind lashes to be certain he was alone, Arthur smiled a little. It really was not fair to do this, but somehow having a meltdown over some superfluous matter made it easier to find Knights willing to help with the summer stable scrub-down. Jols peeked 'round the door and gave Arthur the 'thumbs-up' sign before disappearing to wherever it was he went off to. Tomorrow, Arthur would broach the subject of the stable needing to be cleaned. Tonight though, he would enjoy the unforeseen benefit of his tirade – an evening of complete peace and quiet. Smiling wider and stretching, he silently congratulated himself on outsmarting his Knights yet again.


End file.
